


All in the Family

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [36]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, But still best to tag, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Historically accurate swimwear, Loneliness, Marriage of Convenience, Pseudo-Incest, Sort Of, one character is married to a much older man and his daughter is around her age, so it's not as problematic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 16:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: “We- we just…made love,” Miranda said, her voice quiet for once. She turned her head and was momentarily stunned by the sight of Dionyza’s bare body in the little sliver of moonlight coming through the fluttering curtains.“We did,” Dionyza agreed. She rolled onto her back and flung her right arm over her head, giving Miranda an unobstructed view of her small breasts and dark pointed nipples.“I committed adultery on my husband,” Miranda continued contemplatively. “With his own daughter, no less.”“Yes, we did,” Dionyza said. “Probably damning us to all sorts of fiery hells in the process.”“Oh, most decidedly,” Miranda said, in a tone entirely inappropriate for such an agreement. “Care to do it again sometime?”“Oh, god, yes,” Dionyza said, breathing out a sigh of relief.





	All in the Family

The sun rose in the east and set in the west. And each morning, just before the first rays crested over the horizon, Miranda Cade would watch as a new day dawned from the balcony of her little villa overlooking the sea.

Those few moments of peace, she sometimes thought as she let the gentle breeze blow at her loose copper-colored curls, were the only reason she kept going every day. When the world was still sound asleep, or so it seemed, and more importantly her husband still lay snoring in an ornate bed one room over, Miranda felt as though she could actually breathe.

But the sun rose, and just before her husband could stir, Miranda always returned inside, made herself presentable and slipped back into bed before anyone could be any wiser. A few hours later, she would be fully dressed, made up, and at the table to pick her way through a silent meal.

Today, however, Miranda allowed herself a few extra moments of bliss before she returned to her own personal reality. Summertime was just over the horizon with that sunlight, and only last night her husband had seen fit to inform her his daughter would be joining them for the season.

Miranda had met her stepdaughter, Dionyza, just a handful of times. Well twice. The first had been at the wedding which had made for an uncomfortable celebratory feast indeed. Miranda and her second husband Frederick’s marriage had not been so unusual. Both widowed, it seemed only natural Miranda would attract the attention of another. Her first husband had died rather early into their marriage, and as a result she was far younger than Frederick who had children about her age. Frederick’s son hadn’t found his father’s interest in a much younger woman anything strange or suspicious and for that Miranda was thankful.

Though most of their friends in their social circle had rejoiced at the news of two widowed souls finding love once more, there had been a few who had whispered amongst themselves. Miranda had refused to let their insults affect her: gold-digger, harlot, even black widow.

That Frederick’s beloved eldest child seemed to believe much of the same things bothered the redhead quite a bit more, but Dionyza and her father hardly spoke much less saw each other and she tried not to dwell too much on it.

Once, when Frederick first mentioned he had a daughter about her age, Miranda had hoped they would become close friends, if not proper stepmother and stepdaughter. She’d long since been relieved of that fanciful notion.

It wasn’t that Dionyza had ever shown her any outright hatred or hostility. But she had made clear in the first two minutes of speaking that she thought Miranda and her father would never find true happiness together.

“Sooner or later his money or your beauty won’t be enough to sustain you both any longer and you’ll wish you’d never begun this relationship,” Dionyza had said without any trace of malice. Instead, she’d spoken with calm conviction as though it were fact she’d seen fit to divine for her stepmother.

Miranda remembered she had been determined not to let her stepdaughter’s premonition ruin her big day, nor the happy days after. But three years later and the pretty clothes, and expensive jewels, and gorgeous summer villas in Italy had lost their luster just as Dionyza had said. At first it had been like a dream come true. Growing up, Miranda had been moderately wealthy, as had her first marriage, but Frederick had enough money to sustain armies. She had loved it in the beginning. The trips to Paris and Milan, the fur coats, the fine corsets and silk stockings meant for everyday wear rather than simply special occasions.

But what he made up for in riches, Frederick lacked in any sort of affection or passion. Early on, Miranda believed it to be just his nature. The English hardly could be considered overly expressive in their love. When she saw how he interreacted with his children, she’d been sure Frederick was just a stoic man. And she could work with a husband just a bit cold at times. She thought perhaps with pretty rouges and daring underthings she might entice him to show a bit of true desire. But Frederick seemed to be of the mind that since he had already produced an heir with his late wife, he had no need to show his second wife any hint of lust except enough to be socially appropriate.

And certainly, Miranda could deal with her own desires in secret. Lord knew she’d been doing that all her life. But her husband hardly looked at her or kissed her goodnight or thought much of her for anything more than someone to hold onto his arm at gatherings. With Frederick it was as though she’d been gifted the stars and the moon but had no telescope with which to enjoy them.

And now, for the first time in over two years, Dionyza would be present to see just how right she had been. Miranda dreaded and looked forward to it in equal measure. The two women didn’t exactly hate each other, and they had never truly argued, but it had been strained both times they’d met.

Miranda, half-starved for any interaction that would evoke some sort of emotional response, hoped perhaps an extended period of contact would warm Dionyza to her stepmother. Or hell, at this point, Miranda would even be satisfied if it turned out they hated each other with a burning passion because at least she would feel _something_.

With a heavy sigh and a wary glance around, Miranda let her robe slip down off her shoulders to rest in the crooks of her elbows. It was so hot this time of year and even the light silk seemed too much. She felt a bit naughty, standing there with her shoulders nearly bare. She’d bought the daring nightdress in the early stages of her marriage in the hopes it would trigger a primal response in her husband, but no such luck. Now she appreciated it purely for the amount of skin it allowed to breathe in the humid air.

The bedroom door creaked, and Miranda closed her eyes in disappointment. The blissful morning was now gone. Turning, Miranda fully expected it to be her maid, Leeta, to ready her for the day. Instead, Miranda came face to face with Dionyza Cade, fully dressed and carrying a small valise.

“Oh!” Hyperconscious of her lack of clothing, her sleep-mussed hair, her unmade face, Miranda hurriedly pulled her robe tightly around herself, clutching the fabric just under her neck. “I- I must apologize for my- we had expected you later or I would have dressed….” Flustered, Miranda quickly came back inside and closed the balcony doors behind her.

Almost immediately after catching sight of her stepmother in just her nightclothes, Dionyza had swiftly turned her back.

“I hadn’t realized you would- that is, if I would have known my- um, _this_ bedroom would be occupied I’d have knocked…” Miranda was slightly mollified to hear Dionyza sounded just as flustered. “I’ll just, um, let you get dressed, shall I? I’ll be out on the terrace, then. Don’t rush on my account.”

Miranda made a noise of agreement, but it wasn’t until the door clicked shut again that she allowed herself to breathe. A glance in the mirror confirmed her face looked about as red as her hair. With a huff, she rang the bell for Leeta and resolved to put this embarrassment behind her. After all, Dionyza was family and another woman. Surely there was no harm in being seen in her nightdress by her stepdaughter.

An hour later, looking a far cry from the unruly thing she’d been that morning, Miranda sat across from Dionyza on the patio, sipping some tea and nibbling on a biscuit. Frederick would still be asleep for a few more hours yet. He’d grown fond of his morning lie-ins these past few months.

“Again, I must apologize for earlier,” Miranda said primly.

“No, tis I who should be begging your pardon,” Dionyza said diplomatically. “I should have knocked. Though…in my defense, I assumed you would be in the master bedroom.” Miranda caught her questioning gaze and resented the insinuation, however true it was.

“I simply enjoy waking up to the morning sunlight and the master bedroom is on the other side of the villa,” Miranda explained, trying to sound as though she believed her little white lie. “Your father prefers to sleep in and we thought this arrangement would be best for both of our needs.”

“I see,” Dionyza said, and she sounded very much like she saw indeed. But Miranda refused to justify herself any further to this woman, and Dionyza sensed she shouldn’t push. “Well, I’ll just have my things moved into the guest room if that’s alright.”

Miranda nodded, then, suddenly struck with a realization she apologized again. She’d moved into the second largest bedroom on the water without paying any mind to the things Leeta had removed from the wardrobe. It had probably been Dionyza’s room.

But Dionyza waved her away, explaining that she in fact preferred dusk over dawn herself. Then they lapsed into silence once more, unsure what to say to each other. Several times they both tried to start up some inane conversation only for it to die almost immediately out. It seemed Dionyza was just as distant as her father. Miranda had met the brother many times and he seemed to share none of the same reservations.

“I should warn you I do not make the best conversation partner,” Dionyza said, sensing Miranda’s frustration. “I would say it runs in the family, but you’ve met my dear brother and clearly he has no such reservations. And…well…clearly it is not something inherited.” Dionyza made a vague gesture towards herself and trailed off once more.

Miranda colored slightly and turned to stare out at the crystal clear blue water. In all the years she’d known Dionyza and Frederick she’d never once asked about Dionyza’s clear dissimilarity to her other family members. Frankly she’d thought it none of her business why her stepdaughter shared none of the fair features of the other Cades nor their considerable height. Miranda had never quite been sure where Dionyza had come from. Perhaps from Italy or the Mediterranean area, or even farther east.

“You can ask if you like, I won’t be offended,” Dionyza said after another long silent spell. “It’s a bit of a family secret, but well, you _are_ family, aren’t you?”

“I- it’s not necessary if you don’t want…” Miranda hesitated, feeling curiosity creeping up her spine. She liked that feeling. Any feeling these days was a good one. But she couldn’t help but think this was also a trap offering. As though asking would be admitting some sort of fault, however insane it sounded.

“My mother, she worked for my parents as a…as a maid,” Dionyza said, her voice soft. She rarely ever, of the few sentences Miranda had heard her utter, spoke louder than a quiet murmur. Nothing like Miranda’s loud, sometimes undesirably so, voice. “I don’t know who my birth father was, but my mother had worked for the Cades before I was born. I used to grow up playing with the boy, my brother now. When my mother…fell ill, and eventually passed away, the Cades took me in rather than send me away. We try to pass me off as just very Mediterranean, and my adoptive mother was Italian enough that it worked well enough. It’s been harder since I’ve moved out all these years, but the people back in London know me well enough not to ask questions and I’ve been traveling the world anyway.”

“Are, um, then you are not Mediterranean, then?” Miranda asked lightly. Dionyza shook her head. “May I ask…?”

“Oh, somewhere in Southeast Asia,” Dionyza said airily. “Better not to know. If you do not know you do not look too hard. A few name changes, and a lifetime of trying to stay out of the sun as best I can, and it turns out okay.”

Miranda was about as pale as they came, and in comparison Dionyza looked practically bronze. If this was her coloring without the sun’s rays, Miranda wondered what she would look like tanned and sun-kissed. She blinked, and blushed, realizing she’d been staring.

“I’m sorry, um…” Miranda wasn’t sure if Dionyza even wanted an apology. From where she was sitting, it looked as though things had turned out well for her. “Never mind. More tea?”

 

Over the next few days, Miranda and Dionyza had about one full conversation a day. Progress. That was what it was. Progress. And Miranda didn’t mind the infrequency. They’d been getting longer and longer with each passing day, and always had something of substance to them. Miranda just hoped it wasn’t obvious just how much she craved these interactions.

When Frederick joined them, it felt stunted as though neither he nor his daughter wanted to speak overly freely in each other’s presence. Miranda talked enough for the both of them, but it was uncomfortable.

“I was thinking we might go down to the seaside today,” Miranda said over breakfast one morning. “It’s a lovely day, and just so hot to be looking at the water and not feeling it.” She looked up, and her eyes instinctively went to Dionyza first. 

“I suppose,” Dionyza said mildly. “Will you be joining us, Father?” And Miranda was perceptive enough to notice she sounded as though she’d rather he didn’t.

“No, you girls have your fun,” Frederick said, pushing back from the table. “I think I shall go into the village for the day. I may not be home in time for dinner so don’t you ladies worry about me. Remember, don’t say out in the sun too long, Dionyza. You either, Miranda.”

He patted his daughter’s hand and kissed his wife’s, about as affectionate as he got, and waltzed out without another word, leaving his daughter and wife to both feel silent relief, shared but alone.

“Well, that’s that then,” Miranda said briskly. She rose and smoothed out her long dress. “I’ll meet you at the steps in about half an hour? Um, Leeta can help you first.”

“No, I can manage just fine,” Dionyza said. “I’ve been living on my own long enough to undo corset stays without any assistance. Until then.” She gave Miranda a soft smile that made her stomach flutter. She smiled back but Dionyza had already turned to head back to her room.

Secretly, Miranda was thankful Dionyza had said that. Lord knew she could never have managed wrestling herself out of her dress and petticoats and into another, swimming-specific, dress and petticoats.

It was a difficult process even with Leeta, but together they managed to strip her down to her underthings and into her bathing costume which was almost as cumbersome as her dress, particularly with the weights in the skirts. She almost didn’t make it to the steps in time.

“Oh,” Miranda said faintly, eyes widening. Dionyza’s costume looked far, _far_ , less conservative than her own curtain of a costume. It still covered her from neck to toe, but Miranda had never believed anyone could make a bathing dress look good. “I take it you don’t think highly of our insistence on modesty then.”

“Darling, I’ve been in places where women swim in what may as well be nuns habits, and places where they wear nothing at all,” Dionyza said, smirking when Miranda blushed at the very thought. “I’d say this is perfectly modest. Now, are we going or not? There’s a private little cove just down the beach and there isn’t another villa for miles. I’m looking forward to a bit of fun.”

Miranda nodded wordlessly, and together they made their way down to the cove. Shocked, Miranda could only stare in awe. She’d been at this villa for years and never knew this existed.

“I haven’t even let you in on the best part,” Dionyza said with a conspiratorial smirk. “It’s so remote out here that, _if_ you are comfortable, we need not put ourselves through these torturous garments.”

“Is that so?” Miranda said, smirking herself. She couldn’t believe she was even entertaining the notion; swimming with hardly a stitch on in front of another person. But it had been so long since she’d done something daring, and she’d almost forgotten how mischievous she’d once been. Well, a much older traditionalist husband would do that. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so terrible. You’ll have to help me out of this monstrosity though.”

Dionyza stepped forward and expertly devested Miranda of her outer layers until she was just one short of being in her most inner underthings. “Shall I continue? I usually swim in just my drawers and chemise, but well…”

“Ah…yes, my, ah, current situation wouldn’t exactly allow for that, but this should be alright, shouldn’t it? You won’t be uncomfortable if I stay like this?” Miranda turned just as Dionyza started undressing. And she realized with startling clarity that watching a woman undress instead of helping or being helped was far more enticing than she’d realized.

“Hm? Oh, no, I believe you’ll discover I have very little reservations,” Dionyza said giving Miranda another one of her coy little smiles. “And this cove is divine. Look, if we stay just under those rocks, we won’t have to worry about the sun.”

Miranda worked very hard, and very unsuccessfully, not to have her eyes as large as saucers as she watched Dionyza slowly wade into the water. Her white linens quickly became far too transparent to be even necessary anymore.

“Coming?” Dionyza called before diving beneath the surface. Miranda glanced down at her own soon-to-be see-through clothes and decided to hell with it. She dove in gracefully and only resurfaced when her fingertips scraped against the rocks.

“You never warned me I’d have to get my hair wet,” she admonished playfully. “It’ll be a terrible fright, I’m sure.”

“Nonsense, you look lovely,” Dionyza said, then more seriously, “I feel we’ve started off on the wrong foot. At the wedding, I offended you and I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you or insinuate you and my father were not…I would like…” This was where she faltered, uncertainly treading water.  “It is not so impossible that you make each other happy, and I certainly have little experience with what love should look like.”

“I- I wouldn’t call it love,” Miranda admitted, gingerly letting her toes sink into the soft sand below. “I think it’s not so much we make each other happy as it is we make life a little easier. You mustn’t misunderstand, I did love your father. I mean, I- I do. Only, only well, you know your father isn’t an overly affectionate person, and well, a girl likes to be held sometimes…” She felt uncharacteristically vulnerable and sank deeper into the water, for all that it hid.

“He wasn’t always like this,” Dionyza murmured, drifting over to a rock. “It used to be that between the four of us, I was the emotionally stunted one. When my mother died things changed. I suspect he believed I was coping the best and adapted my inability to be expressive. I apologize on his-”

“Oh, no!” Miranda swiftly swam over to Dionyza’s rock. “No, I refuse to let you blame yourself for anything. I- if anything, I knew who I was marrying, and just was too optimistic. It’s not so terrible though. We care for each other… though it does get a bit lonely.”

“Well, I can help with the loneliness,” Dionyza offered a little bashfully. “I mean, at least I would like to. I’ve come to enjoy your company these past few days, and was wondering if perhaps it wasn’t too late to extend an olive branch of friendship.”

Miranda felt her heart speed up and she was filled with inexplicable anticipation. She chuckled a little breathlessly and looked down at the water below. A friend. It had been so long since she’d had one of those. Not a true friend. And she’d been so lonely…

“I’d love that,” she answered honestly. “I would love that so much.” And before she could think better of it, Miranda flung her arms around the other woman. Even more astonishingly, after a long moment of shocked immobility, Dionyza hugged her back.

They splashed around that little cove all day, for once not worrying about the sun at all. They missed lunch entirely, and thankfully Leeta knew better than to come looking for them, but at last they emerged from the cove.

“We should wade in with our dresses just to keep Leeta from being suspicious,” Miranda suggested, pointedly looking away from Dionyza’s very transparent clothing. Outside of the water it was even more apparent, and she herself was trying to conceal her front without making it obvious.

“I think Leeta would rather us not drag these monstrosities through the house while sopping wet,” Dionyza countered, standing a little ways away from her clothing as she rung out the excess water of her drawers. “In fact, if you would kindly turn around, I think I’ll remove these wet things entirely.”

Miranda blinked but obliged. She fidgeted, before making the split-second decision to follow Dionyza’s example. With a quick glance around the deserted area, she flung aside her wet things and hurried to put on as many layers as she could before asking for help with the rest.

When they returned to the villa, wet clothing bundled in their arms, Leeta only gave them a knowing look and carried the sodden linens off to be laundered later.

Long after supper, Frederick still hadn’t returned and the women were happier for it. They opted to instead retreat to Miranda’s balcony, and after a few glasses of wine, Miranda was feeling pleasantly loose and carefree.

And conversing with Dionyza was everything conversing with Frederick wasn’t. Especially once a glass of wine loosened her stiff posture, and relaxed her reserved disposition. She was cultured, and intelligent, and just about the most brilliant woman Miranda had ever met. Gosh, Miranda thought she’d be able to listen to Dionyza’s travel tales for the rest of her life. And her wit and candor, oh, Miranda couldn’t remember when she’d last spoke with a woman who wasn’t a vapid dunderhead.

“Are you always this delightfully scathing?” Miranda asked after they’d taken more turns than probably proper in insulting their social circle back home in London. “Oh, please tell me you’re just as vicious when sober, my dear.”

“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid,” Dionyza said, fanning herself lazily. “Only in front of those I like, mind you.” Then seeming to realize her little slip of the tongue, she added, “and those I particularly _don’t_.”

 “Oh no, you’ve already admitted to liking me,” Miranda said teasingly, tossing her hair which she’d elected to leave loose after sorting it out earlier. Something she’d noticed Dionyza seemed particularly appreciative of. “You can’t take it back now or else. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh? ‘Or else’ what?” Dionyza said, raising her eyebrow with a smirk. “You’ll turn into my wicked stepmother, Miss. Two-months-younger?”

“A month and a half, thank you very much,” Miranda said primly, and she generously refilled their glasses. “Now, tell me, Dionyza. How and why have you been fortunate to remain a spinster all this time? Tell me your secret even it if is too late for me.”

Dionyza scoffed and rubbed her thumb and fingers together. Money, of course. “And I’ve not been one to attract the men, not that I have any complaints, but no man is exactly looking for a willful independent woman such as myself. At least besides my father, it seems. Cheers to you for that.”

“Bollocks,” Miranda declared, deciding that they were more than past the point in their friendship, however brief it was, where they could curse in front of each other. “If I were a man I’d be glad to marry you.”

Dionyza didn’t laugh like Miranda expected her to. Instead she flushed slightly and looked down at her glass before swiftly breezing on. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Now speaking of men, where is that fool of a father I have? It must be close to midnight by now.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Miranda answered, and she found she didn’t care either. She’d just finished the glass that pushed her over from tipsy to vaguely drunk and it felt lovely. “Mmh, I do believe I won’t be able to walk in a few moments here. It’s been too bloody long since I’ve gotten properly smashed. Be a darling stepdaughter won’t you and pour me another glass.”

Instead Dionyza corked the wine bottle, ignoring Miranda’s very unbecoming whine of protest, and helped the intoxicated woman to her feet.

“To bed with you,” she said with so much conviction that Miranda couldn’t even begin to argue. They clumsily made their way inside where the bed was thankfully just a few paces away. Dionyza’s diminutive height and Miranda’s towering one made it all the more awkward but somehow they managed to get the taller woman seated.

Miranda vaguely heard Dionyza mention something about helping her undress without disturbing Leeta, and nodded uncaringly. Once her body had touched the plush mattress she could think of nothing but falling into a peaceful drunken slumber.

Her eyelids dropped and it was morning. Fortunately, not even drinking half a bottle of vintage wine could stop her body from rising before the sun. Unfortunately, the bright rays did little to help her pounding head and after taking one look outside she flung the sheets over her head and promptly passed out once more.

She awoke a few hours later to Leeta clicking her tongue in fond disapproval. The smug maid cheekily asked if she would care for a Prairie Oyster and the very thought turned Miranda’s stomach.

“You and the Master both,” Leeta said, fussing over Miranda’s hair when at last she got her Mistress upright. “Not the wee lassie though, nope. That one never gets the morning blues like the rest of us.”

“Typical,” Miranda muttered testily. “Lord, can’t I just lie here for the rest of the day?” But Leeta was unrelenting and soon enough Miranda was sitting in front of a hearty breakfast with a tall glass of water beside her and Dionyza’s unconcealed smirking face in front of her.

With a mock glower, Miranda asked if she intended on gloating all day or if she would lend a bit of sympathy in lieu of empathy. Dionyza shook her head with far too much speed for Miranda’s liking.

Frederick evidently decided to sleep off his hangover rather than join them and Miranda couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. Instead she sat laced up in her corset with her only consolation being she could enjoy his daughter’s company in peace.

By midday, Miranda felt much better, though she’d sworn off alcohol at least a dozen times since waking up. Not that Leeta or Dionyza believed her, of course. It was around then that Frederick decided to make an appearance only to drop a bombshell on them both.

“I’ve unfortunately been forced to cut this vacation a little short,” he informed them both over lunch. “I shall have to return to London immediately, but do not worry my dears. I’m sure you’ll be perfectly fine without me here, won’t you?”

“Leaving?” Miranda repeated, cocking her head. Not that she felt any disappointment in her husband’s announcement, mind you, but still. “For how long?” For the remainder of the summer, as it turned out. And he intended to bring Leeta along with him.

“I’m sure you two will be able to get along just fine without her,” He said briskly. “Of course, if you would rather I send someone I’m sure hiring someone would be little trouble.”

Miranda opened her mouth to reply, but Dionyza quickly beat her to it. “I’m sure we’ll manage perfectly well, Father. Don’t give us another though. I hope everything is okay?” She glanced pointedly at Miranda.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” Miranda answered. “Yes, dear. Dionyza and I have gotten quite close these past few days, so you needn’t worry about us at all. Do be careful, won’t you? The sea can get quite rough in these summer monsoons, you know.” But she wasn’t worried.

They saw Frederick and Leeta off scarcely an hour later, and only after they’d finished waving did it sink in.

“Dionyza, dear,” Miranda remarked calmly.

“Yes?”

“Please tell me I did not just allow our only source of cooking, cleaning, and dressing to sail off with my husband back to London.”

“I’m afraid you did, darling,” Dionyza said, not sounding at all concerned. “Fear not, though. I have every confidence that, as two grown women, we can keep ourselves and each other alive for one summer. Barely two months. Come, let us explore what this place has to offer.”

Miranda allowed Dionyza to drag her into the kitchen where she spent far too much time amusing herself by poking around and reorganizing to better suit her diminutive stature, using her taller stepmother to reach things when needed.

“I do hate to break this to you,” Miranda said, reclining back against the counter as much as her corset would allow. “But I can’t for the life of me fathom cooking a full meal once let alone every day. Not to mention dressing and undressing each day. And oh, I didn’t even consider the laundry…”

“That’s why we have cookbooks,” Dionyza said, sounding more patient than she had all week. “And it just so happens that I can do all of those things after living and traveling alone for so long. Come, let us learn. Every woman must be capable of being independent, and I’ve found if you’ve done the work you become more appreciative of those who do this for a living.”

And Miranda didn’t have the heart to put up more of a protest and insist they hire someone for the next two months. Besides, she had an ulterior motive. Spending time alone with Dionyza without another soul in the villa. It sounded so alluring and Miranda couldn’t quite understand it.

In fact, it took half a week, several failed cooking attempts that Dionyza had had to salvage, and many a morning and night where her skin tingled as the smaller woman helped her dress and undress that Miranda finally understood.

 The night she woke up breathless and flushed with a persistent ache down below, she knew. She’d somehow tossed and turned enough that the sheets had become bunched up and were resting rather conveniently between her thighs, though it was only after blinking fully awake that she realized her hips were slowly pressing against them.

“Well, fuck me,” Miranda huffed, flinging aside the damp sheets. She may have been an Englishwoman in the 19th century, but she knew enough to recognize the signs of attraction and lust. That the object of her affections was another woman only gave Miranda a brief pause. That she was the daughter of her current husband, well…that was a little more damning.

But with a sly smile, Miranda allowed a hand to ruck up her silk nightgown. She saw no harm in indulging a bit and it wasn’t as though Dionyza would ever know she’d featured in her stepmother’s fantasies. The very idea, so terribly taboo, made it that much sweeter and before long Miranda was moaning her pleasure into the pillow.

Under cover of night her little indiscretion seemed harmless enough, but in the harsh light of morning, as Miranda sat across from her stepdaughter whom she’d imagined in some scandalous positions, well Miranda realized she’d been very mistaken indeed.

She couldn’t quite meet Dionyza’s eye, though whenever the other woman seemed distracted by anything else, Miranda also couldn’t look away. It was no surprise she’d found Dionyza attractive in what most would consider a most unnatural sense. The spinster was worldly, brilliant, and quite pretty in her own way. Perhaps Dionyza wasn’t a conventional beauty – she would never be porcelain pale, nor tall or plump – but Miranda had never cared about that sort of thing. Not in other women, at any rate.

Unsure what to do now that she’d likely broken at least seven different taboos, Miranda kept uncharacteristically quiet through the remainder of the day. Even when the two women ventured into the nearby town for supplies, she couldn’t quite figure out how to make her tongue cooperate. When Dionyza gave her a concerned glance, Miranda merely brushed her off. Headaches always worked as an excuse with her husband, but Frederick’s daughter wasn’t so easily swayed.

“Perhaps a glass or two will ease my migraine,” Miranda said, knowing full well they would not. Dionyza scoffed, but poured her stepmother a glass while she finished up their supper for the night.

“I suppose you know best, mother dear,” Dionyza said teasingly. Miranda winced, loathe to be reminded of their official relationship. “Miranda? Are you certain you are feeling quite right?” She reached up, forced to stand on her tip toes, and placed the back of her hand on Miranda’s forehead. Which certainly did not help the situation in the slightest. Whereas before last night she’d only felt a pleasant tingle whenever Dionyza brushed their skin, now her touch practically burned.

“I- I’m fine,” Miranda stammered as Dionyza’s hand traveled down her face to the nape of her neck. “Really, Dionyza. Please, I-” Their eyes met and Miranda’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe as she watched the realization dawn on her stepdaughter’s face.

“Oh,” Dionyza said simply. She slowly lowered herself back down onto her heels, but didn’t remove her hand. “Miranda?”

The taller woman would never be able to explain what came over her in that moment. But something in Donyza’s gaze made her lose all common sense. Miranda leaned down and pressed their lips together. The sheer lack of finesse in that awkward kiss would later make her cringe, but all she could think of in that moment was Dionyza’s soft lips pressed against hers, gasping quietly in surprise but not pulling away.

A crash brought them careening back down to earth, and both women recoiled in shock and horror. Nearly tripping over her long skirts, Miranda grasped the table behind her, eyes wide as saucers. Across the room, Dionyza touched her lips almost reverently. Then, with hardly a split second between them they both fled to their bedrooms, slamming the doors behind them.

“What have I done?” Miranda demanded of herself, sinking down onto her bed. She buried her face in her hands, but allowed herself just a single sob before she pulled herself together once more. Well, she tried at any rate. When her own sheer stubbornness didn’t work, Miranda instead reached for the bottle.

But before she could so much as take a sip, a knock nearly caused the second crash of the day. She hastily hid her secret bottle of strong spirits under her bed and crept towards the door.

“Miranda?” Dionyza gently said. “Miranda? We need to talk. Please?” Miranda’s shoulders dropped as much as her corset would allow, but cracked the door just wide enough to look down at Dionyza’s distraught expression. One glance and Miranda instantly capitulated. She stepped back, casting her eyes to the floor.

“You kissed me,” Dionyza said simply, with neither anger nor excitement in her voice.

“I did,” Miranda said, equally without inflection. Following Dionyza’s example, she gingerly sat down on the bed next to the other woman. “You kissed back.”

“I did,” Dionyza answered, smoothing the sheets absently. “I was just…did you mean to? I mean, in the way I think you meant it?”

“How do you think I meant it?” Miranda asked, unwilling to admit what she knew was true just yet.

“I would like to believe…that is, I hope you feel the same,” Dionyza said, faintly blushing. That alone made Miranda smile and relax minutely. “I mean, regardless, it’s such a terrible idea.”

“Completely,” Miranda agreed, moving ever so slightly closer.

“You’re married,” Dionyza continued, slowly letting her hand drift across the space between them.

“I am,” Miranda said, shivering as Dionyza ran her index finger over her knuckles. “To your father, no less.”

“That you are,” Dionyza said, letting her fingers drag up Miranda’s expensive skirts. “We are both women.”

“Indeed,” Miranda said, brushing Dionyza’s loose hair over her opposite shoulder so as to better see her face.

“Not to mention it is entirely taboo,” Dionyza continued, her eyelids fluttering as Miranda pressed her lips to her neck.

“I know,” Miranda said, pulling back. “This would be all sorts of wrong, what we’d be doing. Never mind the fact that I’ve never- I mean…” despite her brazen actions just a few seconds earlier, Miranda felt entirely out of her depth.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” Dionyza asked simply, turning to look at Miranda for the first time. Even sitting she had to tilt her head up considerably to meet the redhead’s eye. Miranda nodded, by now practically pressed up against the smaller woman. “Then do it.” And Miranda did.

And this time it felt as thought the world had cracked in two. Dionyza reached up and buried her hand in Miranda’s hair, gently releasing the perfectly set curls from their pins one by one until they framed their faces like a mane.

“Have you ever- I mean, with a woman?” Miranda asked when at last they separated. She took deep desperate breaths, wondering if her heart would ever return to its normal pace again. Wondering if she even wanted it to if it meant Dionyza would kiss her like that.

“A few times,” Dionyza said, just as breathless. “Should I…?”

“Please.” And without another moment of hesitation, Dionyza and Miranda scrambled to fight out of their restrictive clothing. Frustrated, Miranda nearly tore the suffocating clothing right off her body before Dionyza took her hands and steadied them both. “Wait. We have time, darling. Here, let’s do this without ripping any lace if we can manage it.”

Miranda stood, and let Dionyza’s deft fingers easily free her from her many layers. She didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed at as the last of her clothing fell to the floor, leaving her utterly bare before her fully-dressed stepdaughter. Coyly, she even tossed her hair over her shoulder, letting Dionyza’s gaze travel up and down her pale back. And lower.

“Turn around,” she ordered, waiting until she heard the rustle of Dionyza’s dress before she herself turned. Though not as quick as the smaller woman, Miranda did her best to make short work of the remaining clothes until Dionyza too stood fully nude.

Without preamble, Dionyza turned, allowing Miranda just a few moments to admire her form. Still was enough to steal what little breath the redhead had left, and she instantly obeyed Dionyza’s request to lie back.

Naked as the day she was born, Miranda reclined against the pillows as regally as she could manage, what with her long legs dutifully spread. But Dionyza surprised her. Instead of going straight for Miranda’s netherregions, Dionyza crawled up her long body and straddled her midriff. Miranda gasped, feeling the heat from between Dionyza’s thighs on her belly.

“May I show you what making love should be like?” Dionyza asked huskily.

“Oh, god, yes,” Miranda moaned. Unable to help herself, she grasped Dionyza’s slender hips. And show her she did.

Miranda couldn’t even begin to fathom how it was possible, but Dionyza seemed to know every spot on her body that drove her body wild. She kissed her way over Miranda’s jawline, down her neck, across her collarbone.

When she got to her small breasts, Miranda nearly lost it right then. Not once had Miranda ever considered her nipples and breasts could be something sexually fulfilling beyond pure aesthetic. Hers were tiny, especially for her tall frame, and while a corset or a bit of lace made them look enticing enough, she’d never thought they could be this sensitive.

But Dionyza left her metaphorical mark on those pale, soft, neglected bits of flesh, and she soon had Miranda whimpering and crying out with abandon.

“And I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” Dionyza teased, playfully tickling Miranda’s sides. The redhead squirmed. A blush had traveled down her face, over her neck and dipped down between her breasts.

“Please, please, Dionyza,” Miranda begged without a trace of shame. “Oh, god. I need you! Touch me, please.” She fully expected a coy response served solely to infuriate her, but instead Dionyza obeyed without another moment’s hesitation.

She licked and sucked and demonstrated skills Miranda never knew were even possible. Her head a delicious fog, Miranda gave up trying to keep track of Dionyza’s ministrations and instead lost herself to the euphoric sensations. She buried one hand in Dionyza’s long silky hair and grasped the iron headboard with the other, nearly tearing the metal bar clean off.

“Yes, yes!” Miranda felt as though she’d burn up at any moment if she didn’t reach her peak right then and there. “Please! Di- oh, yes, Dionyza!”

When at last she climaxed, her entire back arched from the mussed bedsheets. It was as though Dionyza had given her the stars and the moon and the telescope too. Perfection.

Her thighs sticky, her skin drenched in sweat, Miranda lazily allowed her body to go fully limp. Only when Dionyza gently removed two slender fingers from inside did Miranda stir.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Miranda said, unable to think of anything a little less gauche in the moment. Thankfully Dionyza laughed, and oh it was such a lovely little sound. “Where the fuck did you learn that and how could you possibly know every spot that would drive me mad?”

“Don’t be thinking I’m some goddess above,” Dionyza teased, tracing nonsensical circles into Miranda’s pale shoulder. “I simply took my time exploring. And every time I found a spot where you gasped or shuddered, I knew I’d found a winner.” With a small smile, she placed a chaste kiss on Miranda’s cheek. “Sex isn’t about being naturally phenomenal. It’s about willing to go through trail and error to find exactly what will bring you the best possible pleasure, darling.”

“In that case,” Miranda said, rolling them over until Dionyza was pinned beneath her. “I suppose I’d better start my trials then. And I warn you, I’m a very fast learner.”

“Our lessons in the kitchen would beg to differ,” Dionyza said cheekily, but she put up no further protest.

Later, when they both lay panting, sweaty and sticky and breathless, the true gravity of what they’d just done sunk in. Again. Though the absolute last thing Miranda wanted was to ruin the afterglow, but they had to acknowledge the consequences of their indiscretion.

“We- we just…made love,” she said, her voice quiet for once. She turned her head and was momentarily stunned by the sight of Dionyza’s bare body in the little sliver of moonlight coming through the fluttering curtains.

“We did,” Dionyza agreed. She rolled onto her back and flung her right arm over her head, giving Miranda an unobstructed view of her small breasts and dark pointed nipples.

“I committed adultery on my husband,” Miranda continued contemplatively. “With his own daughter, no less.”

“Yes, we did,” Dionyza said. “Probably damning us to all sorts of fiery hells in the process.”

“Oh, most decidedly,” Miranda said, in a tone entirely inappropriate for such an agreement. “Care to do it again sometime?”

“Oh, god, yes,” Dionyza said, breathing out a sigh of relief. She turned her head, finally facing the redhead, and her smile lit up the room. “I just- Miranda, are you certain this is what you want? If we were ever to be discovered…”

Miranda nodded, caressing Dionyza’s cheek. This was all she’d ever wanted, she realized. Someone to look at her with even the slightest hint of interest or desire. Someone to talk philosophy and culture with. Someone to make her feel alive. And Dionyza did all that and more. It was as though Miranda had been asleep for these past three long years, and was only now waking up. Being with Dionyza made her realize what life could truly be.

When she said all of this to her lover, Dionyza became uncharacteristically bashful. Miranda found she quite liked seeing this normally unflappable woman blush. And she intended to make it happen again and again.

“Stay the night?” Miranda finally offered after a long moment of silence. “After all, this _is_ your bedroom.”

“Is this a temporary offer or is it binding?” Dionyza asked, and though she sounded teasing, Miranda knew she was truly curious. Her only answer was to pull the smaller woman close and hold her tight.

And that was how the summer went. Alone in their little villa along the Mediterranean, Dionyza and Miranda loved freely and without fear. Many a night they found themselves lying entangled in the sheets and each other.

To Miranda’s relief, Dionyza’s affections and interest continued even outside their bedroom. Cooking together began to feel just as intimate as their lovemaking, and Miranda looked forward to watching and helping Dionyza expertly chop and dice and stir each day.

This must be what love was like, Miranda thought to herself as she delightedly listened to Dionyza read aloud in a language she couldn’t even fathom understanding. To love surely meant to relish in another’s presence. To feel safe and warm together. To still be able to disagree but be fully prepared to beg forgiveness.

“I love you,” Miranda said without thinking. Dionyza paused in her reading, smiled, and said, “I love you too,” before continuing on with her passage. Miranda ducked her head and beamed. Before, telling her husbands she loved them seemed an obligation, a chore. Now, exchanging those three little words was instead like sharing a simple fact of life. Though their first time admitting their love was certainly a wonderful occasion, neither had so much as flinched. That easy admission, the small but meaningful response. That was what Miranda had so longed for all these years.

When they made love that night, Miranda could feel the difference and it was wonderful. Dionyza had always touched her with care and devotion, but now it was with reverence too. And in turn, Miranda gazed at her like she held the answers to the universe’s greatest problems.

She gathered Dionyza’s hair in her hands, whimpering as she felt the smaller woman’s tongue against her womanhood. Moments like these, Miranda wished summer could last forever and they could remain in this villa, this bedroom, for the rest of their lives.

With no husband or maid to worry about, Miranda could be as loud as she wanted and she thanked god for small favors. She’d always been a loud woman in every area save for the bedroom where she had never seem the need to voice the meager pleasure she’d been given. But Dionyza made it impossible to stop the litany of moans and curses that flowed from her mouth.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck me, please! Yes!” Miranda trembled, moments away from her desperately needed orgasm.

The door burst open and three things happened.

One: both Miranda and Dionyza made varying sounds of shock and horror as they scrambled to cover themselves from Frederick Cade’s astonished and furious gaze.

Two: Frederick took one look at his wife and daughter’s scandalous state and every bit of repressed emotion from the past fifteen years came pouring out as he screamed obscenities at them both.

Three: overcome with shock, Frederick Cade’s heart gave out and with both his mortified wife and daughter looking on, he collapsed, clutching his heart.

Neither woman moved, too stunned to do anything but stare in horror at the scene before them. Miranda vaguely registered someone, Leeta, rushing in, but could only clutch the sheets to her chest and watch with wide eyes.

Finally, it was Dionyza who moved first. Abandoning any pretense of modesty, she rushed to her father’s side. She and Leeta spoke in hushed tones, worry lacing their features.

“We have to find a doctor,” Miranda said, finding her voice. “Leeta. Please, we need-”

“There’s no need for any doctor, ma’am,” Leeta said regretfully. “His old heart just couldn’t take it.”

“He’s…he’s dead?” Miranda felt cold. “But, he can’t. Oh god… What do we do?”

“We’ll have to summon a doctor anyway,” Dionyza said matter-of-factly. She stood and wrapped Miranda’s robe around herself. “I’m not certain of his wishes on his burial and funeral. I suppose we’ll need to return to London at once to begin making the arrangements. Leeta you won’t…please, you can’t tell anyone what has happened tonight.”

“Whatever your price is, we’ll pay,” Miranda said, more securely wrapping the sheet around herself and standing up. “I- Dionyza and I never meant for this to happen. I never thought…” Tentatively, Dionyza placed a hand on Miranda’s arm. They both trembled ever so slightly but that touch grounded them and Miranda let out a breath she’d been holding for too long.

“The Master is old,” Leeta said simply, covering his body with a – clean – sheet. “He came home to find his wife waiting in the bedroom for him as a welcoming surprise and his heart gave out at the sight of her. Not so far from the truth. Come, we must air out this room and dress you both appropriately.”

Miranda felt numb. She allowed Leeta and Dionyza to wash and maneuver her long body into an appropriately enticing nightdress. Tears rolled down her face, and she let them. No one would question a grieving widow.

To her unending anguish, she and Dionyza hardly spoke as they packed their things and traveled back to London, a corpse in tow. Perhaps she no longer loved her late-husband as she should have, and perhaps she did desperately yearn for his daughter, but it did not mean she ever wanted this to end with his death. And it was their fault, wasn’t it? He had caught them and the shock did him in. Perhaps she had killed her husband after all.

Miranda felt like a puppet as she allowed one socialite after another to kiss her cheek and offer their condolences. Just a few steps to her left, Dionyza graciously thanked her own small audience. They may as well have been oceans apart.

“Dionyza, wait,” Miranda said, when at last they were alone in her London house together. “Please. I know you may think this inappropriate, given what has happened, and I am so sorry for the death of your father, but I couldn’t bear it if- I love you.”

Dionyza paused at the bottom of the long staircase. Slowly, she turned to face her ex-stepmother, her mourning gown rustling along the floor.

“I thought perhaps we might wait a few weeks before moving on somewhere,” Dionyza said mildly. “It is not so unusual for a grieving daughter and widow to find solace in each other’s company, and one could hardly expect us to cope with our grief in this house with so many reminders of the good times we’ve shared with him.”

“Yes,” Miranda said, realization dawning on her. “And as a widow and a spinster, we must rely on each other because it would be terribly tragic for two women to be all alone with no companionship.”

“Of course,” Dionyza said, stepping closer. “And anything that might happen between us certainly does not mean either of us cared for my father any less. Nor is it anyone’s business but our own.”

“I believe I may have accidentally moved into your old room in this house as well,” Miranda commented, extending her arm and leading Dionyza up the staircase. “Why don’t we see what we can do about that?”

“I am looking forward to tomorrow’s sunrise,” Dionyza answered as they disappeared into the bedroom.

“Oh, you won’t be disappointed,” Miranda said, and she closed the door behind.


End file.
